Once Upon a Time
by warinbabylon
Summary: This is an ABH. Wrote it a long time ago...and I have been asked to put it up here. It is part of a long series called the Time Series at my site. Written in the second person.
1. Default Chapter

High overhead the leaves of the yew tree whip, collide and rustle. It is enough to make your head tilt back to gaze at the sunlight fighting to break through the formidable curtain of living greenery. A steady sea breeze is blowing today and the thought of salt heavy wisps of air sweeping around the bonfire when it will burn this evening is enough to make you smile. The sunlight, the hearty growth on the trees, the sound of rushing waves and rustling leaves will make the harvest celebration even more beautiful, you think. You feel carefree and light...that is until the sack containing dinner swings inward and collides with your thigh.  
  
The weight of the bag is terrible, you decide. With a shake of your head, you look down at your feet and see that they are sinking into the sand from the weight of it. The coarse granules move over the top of your slippers like waves from the sea, slipping into the space between the material and your skin and becoming a bother. You have stopped five times to empty them, but now you know better. The sand will just keep filling them. And you will just keep being bothered by it.  
  
Why your mother had to, today of all days, send you into town to gather dinner is beyond you. Normally, your brothers have this job. Tonight is the start of the harvest festival and you are ready for it. This is the first year that you are allowed to attend the dancing. You were to pick up bread, wine and meat, which you have done, but now you are late for dressing for the bonfire. Of course, the time that you spent sitting on the bench next to the yew tree cluster at the upper end of town also added to you losing time. But it is such a beautiful day and it is the last week before the beginning of classes...you feel justified in your taking time to enjoy what is left of the summer.  
  
A stiff breeze blows your hair in front of your eyes, blinding you in a sea of citrus smelling strands. You sigh and lift one hand to push them out of your eyes. The next thing you know, the solid firmness of the ground complete with sticks, is pressing into your bottom. Your legs are spread out in front of you and the parcel, full of dinner, is lying next to you on the ground. The weight of the boar's roast is pressing into your thigh.  
  
"By the Gods."  
  
A slightly deepened voice rumbles over you. It is not the voice of a man, but is certainly not the voice of a child. A pair of hands, strong and sure touch your shoulders. "Are you all right?"  
  
You can feel the bones in the man/boy's hand and you decide that he has to be your age. Your hand is covered in dirt; you can feel the mud and leaves coating its surface, but it does not stop you from lifting the hand to move your hair aside. The dark curtain moves and you are again assaulted with the late afternoon sunlight as if floods the break in the leaves above. Somehow or another, you landed in the only spot near the trees that was still muddy from the rainstorm two nights ago. You can feel the damp as it seeps through your clothes, your skirt and touches your skin. You can smell the mud...its dirt earthen aroma strong in your nostrils which, of course, you snort.  
  
Tilting back your head, you momentarily close your eyes and answer the voice. "The Gods had nothing to do with it. Don't you watch where you are going?"  
  
"Generally...but I guess I didn't see you."  
  
You gasp and open your eyes as you think of several things you could answer. The sunlight is blocked out as the pair of hands loop under your elbows and lift you to your feet. You can see only a form as he is in that daylight shadow that always seems more powerful than it should. Your hair falls forward again and you viciously pull it out of your line of sight.  
  
"You really ought to consider getting that hair braided...you might be able to see."  
  
You stand upright and glare at the boy/man. He is tall, that much you can see in the shadows. And his hair is short and long...short in front and long in a ponytail in back. The leaves overhead are pushed back as if by a giant hand and light flows into the dark area as like a stream flowing over a barrier. "First you knock me down and now..."  
  
"And now, I'm giving out friendly advice."  
  
The boy/man has a mass of brown hair, lightened around the temple and the forehead to a tawny blond. His body is clad in a tunic, actually a pair of tunics...one almost white and another tan. His pants are also tan and the complete outfit is made of rough material...almost unsoftened. The pants end ina pair of black, once shiny now muddy boots. But it is his eyes, as you return your gaze back to them, which make you take a deep breath. They are blue...so very blue...like a summer sky or the color of your favorite dress.  
"Friendly advice...after assaulting me?"  
  
His chuckle makes his voice seem lower. "Assault? Far from it. It is just that you are well below my eyeline of sight..."  
  
"I'm not that short, maybe you should readdress the matter as a function of your height."  
  
"Readdress, function? Large words from one so young."  
  
You look down at your dress and the parcel next to your feet. "Thank you for helping me up. Although it was your fault that I was on the ground in the first place...I have to run...my mother will be looking for dinner..."  
  
His eyes squint for a moment and he looks surprised. "I am sorry that I knocked you down..."  
  
Bending you retrieve the parcel and stand again. "Then...."  
  
"You seemed to enjoy the bantering as much as I did." He states quietly, almost forlornly. "You are from town?"  
  
"I am. The outskirts..." you return his squint. You should not be telling a stranger of your place of residence.  
  
"It is quite all right. I promise I won't sneak into your house in the middle of the night and steal...its against my order." He answers, pegging your gaze with his. That same late summer breeze ruffles his hair. It almost looks like the copper that your father works with often. "Although my Master might argue that it is not quite against my character."  
  
"Your order?" Against your better judgment, you are intrigued with this boy. Order indeed. What was he, a monk?  
  
"That looks heavy." He nods to the bag and your dinner. "Let me carry it for you and escort you to your house. That way if you are truly late, I can explain to your mother why you are."  
  
You laugh against your clenched teeth. "Believe me, sir...you knocking me down is the very last reason for me being late."  
  
"Regardless..." He reaches forward with a serious look on his face. "I would be honored if you would let me help you."  
  
After just a moment of thought, you let him take the parcel. He does not seem a stranger. "Thank you..."  
  
His smile is wide as he settles the parcel over his right shoulder and holds out is arm for you to loop your hand over his right elbow. It seems strange...no man...no boy your age has ever offered to escort you like this. The material is rough to your finger tips and makes you want to scratch at it. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn...and what I meant by my order...I'm a Jedi Apprentice..."  
  
Your eyes widen and you grasp at his elbow a little more firmly. A Jedi is it? You think. Interesting. "A padawan?"  
  
"Exactly..." he answers, nodding. "You know a lot for..."  
  
"I'm fourteen, Qui-Gon...not a little child. And I'm attending the Drukin school..."  
  
"Ah, philosophy and teaching...they found you early in life." He comments. His voice, you decide, he has to grow into. It is deep and strong, broad and could fit a man twice his size. The smell of earth is replaced by the natural scent of woven garments and summer. "You will be a teacher soon, then?"  
  
"Maybe...maybe not. My name is Tira Kimdral."  
  
"A pleasure to meet you, Tira."  
  
After a few minutes of walking, you direct him to lead you over a small bridge and the tiny stream that it spans. The town is visible from here...you can see the smoke rising from the various chimneys. "You can't be more than seventeen, Qui-Gon...why this need to call me..."  
  
"I'm soon to be sixteen." He answers, looking out over the town and the rolling hills surrounding it. You love your town, surrounded with rolling emerald and deep, earthen brown, citrus trees and small streams. It is perfect.  
  
After a moment, you laugh. "That explains you running me over. Even a Jedi can't be truly graceful at sixteen."  
  
He laughs and shakes his head. "I could argue."  
  
"You could," you agree.  
  
"Bold."  
  
"Bullish"  
  
Both of you stop in your footsteps to laugh. Qui-Gon is a boy that you could be friends with, could enjoy establishing a friendship with...if it were not for his calling. Jedi never stay in one place long.  
  
"My Master is to be on Alderaan for several weeks. We only just arrived today. I was to meet him soon, but...I"  
  
"Its easy to lose your way in the yew thicket." You tell him, not looking at him. "But you can tell him that you had to stop and help me..."  
  
He stops to nod down the path. "I could tell him that, I suppose."  
  
You look up at him and sigh. Both of you have personalities that are very similar, it is as clear as stream water. You feel no hesitation in talking with him, in walking with him. He is easy and kind underneath that veneer of arrogance that he uses like a shield, you think. His lanky frame appears too thin. You know if your mother sees him and finds out that he is a Jedi apprentice, she will feed him. "Are you here for the harvest festival?"  
  
"Among other things, yes. My Master feels that I should learn other planets' religious rites and beliefs."  
  
"Then you are attending the bonfire tonight?"  
  
He lowers his head. "I had hoped so, if I could find the Grand House."  
  
"You are very far from it, Qui-Gon...you must have made one terrific wrong turn." You laugh. "Come with me to my house...you can contact your Master from there. And my mother, I'm sure, will want to feed you..."  
  
"I don't need..."  
  
You tug on his arm. "Come on." He ambles through the gate almost as a leaf lost from a tree and traveling on the wind. This is not his element. But your mother raised you to have kindness for all living things, including those of your own kind. Regardless of anything, you are sure this is going to be an interesting evening.  
  
** 


	2. Chapter 2

Your mother dries her hands on her apron. That apron hangs from the tie at her waist and is more of a constant than your father's snoring. It is white, starched and smells of citrus and rosemary...two of the things that your kitchen is never without. She leans around the door frame, her small body barely clearing the jam. The knot of dark hair at the nape of her neck swings as she draws her body back to face you.  
  
With a sigh you shake your head. "Momma...stop..."  
  
"A Jedi....in this house." She clucks her tongue and quickly walks back to the cooking station. The stool that you sit on is hard and cool against your legs. When you had entered the house, you had shed your wet, sticky and earthen smelling skirt for a loose fitting pair of pants and a cotton shirt and the wood is easily felt through the material. "I must cook something for him..."  
  
"He won't want any more than you will cook for the rest of us, Momma." You put down the red-striped dragon beans that you hold in your hands.  
  
Your mother clucks her tongue. "His Master is at the Grand House, apparently he is a Jedi Master of some prestige. And how do you know, Tira, what he will or will not want...you have just met him." She spins and grabs a bowl of buttermilk and some of the greens that you had picked. The boar's roast is in the oven, and from where you sit you can hear the snapping of the spit. Its strong odor makes your mouth water.  
  
Sliding down from the stool, you walk around the door. For some reason, although Qui-Gon represents a guest in your house, you are walking around barefoot, an insult in situations such as this. As you clear the doorjam, you hear your mother's exasperated sigh at your state of dress. But you continue to walk as though you had not heard her.  
  
"Yes, Master, but...."  
  
"Stay there you will. Get you at the bonfire I will. Learn you will, not to dally and learn you will to pay heed to directions."  
  
"Yes, Master...but..."  
  
"Silence, Jinn."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
The screen went black before Qui-Gon's form. His head was bowed and his chestnut/copper braid of hair at his back sweeps forward over his shoulder. His feet are spread and his hands are folded in front of his chest.  
  
"Qui-Gon, are you meditating, or are you just unaware that the transmission is over?" You ask, leaning back against the wall to the right of the doorway. From inside the kitchen, you hear your name muttered in exasperated tones.  
  
"Neither...." He raises his head to look at you and smiles. In the golden light of the lamps, his skin seems darker, but his eyes seem that much more deep and...well...deep then they were outside. His eyes waver from yours to glance at the door and the kitchen beyond. "Just suffering from chastisement. Your mother appears to be going through great pains to cook a meal for me...she does not need to do that..."  
  
You glance over your shoulder. All you catch glimpse of is your mother's sapphire blue skirt as it swirls in the air current as she ducks back around the door. "She feels we are honored by your presence in this house."  
  
"And you don't think so..." he raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow into the short blond tipped strands of hair at his brow.  
  
"I think we are honored by any guest, not just you...but I feel...very..." you shrug and rub the arch of your bare right foot into the calf of your left leg. The friction makes you want to squirm.  
  
"Bothered? Put out?" He supplies, turning so that you are faced with his body. The woven strands of his tunic now appear metallic in nature: white gold and pewter perched upon a cut opal stone. It is so clean, so bright that the black mud covered surface of his boots is a startling contrast that makes what you see that much more surreal.  
  
"At home," you answer. "Are you messing with my mind, Qui-Gon?" You know you should feel more...private... less revealing around this Jedi apprentice, but knowing and acting are two very different things. From inside the kitchen, you hear a low sigh and the clatter of a spoon as it is dropped into a pot. The boar roast is cooking well, and you can smell the mixture of herbs and juice as it wafts out of the kitchen like a mist on the morning wind.  
  
"I have no reason to...yet..." he answers. He moves forward to stand only inches from you. You know that he does it both to test your boundaries (others do this at school often) and to speak to you privately. "Is there anything that I can do to put your mother at ease? Her agitation is causing quite a whirlpool in the Force."  
  
You look down at your hands. The red juice from the dragon beans is under your nails and the bitter smell of fresh uncooked vegetable is powerful. "What do you know of food preparation, Jedi?"  
  
"Enough not to starve," Qui-Gon answers. "Please tell me that you have something I can do in there. Anymore uptight and your mother will snap like a twig."  
  
"Then I will introduce you to dragon beans, Qui-Gon," you lift your hand to wave the bean covered tips at him. "But you have to promise me that you will introduce me to this Master of yours at the bonfire when we deliver you there."  
  
"Have you ever met a Dagobanian?" Jinn moves around you to glance in the kitchen. His sapphire sea eyes sweep around the interior as if sizing for a fight. "If not, do not let his size influence what you think. He is extremely powerful in the Force."  
  
"I know about the Force, Qui-Gon, but only what they teach us at class. I don't have any thoughts on how to manipulate it or how to use it. And if I let looks influence me...I would have left you on the path..." you answer, turning your back to him. Yes, you like this boy. He is like you in many ways and does not judge by what he sees or hears as easy as others that you know. You have few friends since you have had to leave the town to study and since others judge you by your situation and not your personality now.  
  
"Big words, small person..." he waggles a finger at you, treating you like a young sister. "It is not a good combination. But thank you for bringing me here. I have often wondered what life was like in the worker class of Alderaan."  
  
You frown and sweep your hand wide. "Welcome then." After a minute, you allow your lips to break into a smile and it pulls at the corner of your mouth and chin. You like the feeling of smiling. "We will be eating in a half a standard hour and then we will go to the bonfire. My brothers and my father will be here soon."  
  
"A large family?" he asks, as you turn and allow him to follow you into the kitchen. The wood underfoot settles with your footsteps and creaks with his. The boots click loudly on the grained surface and you know that he could never be quiet in this house. Your mother's back stiffens as the two of you enter the room. Qui-Gon takes a deep breath and sighs lowly, ruffling the hair on the top of your head.  
  
"I have four brothers, all older." You show him to a stool and pick up a handful of beans. He follows your example, although the green and red molted surface of the large beans looks pale and their size small in his hands.  
  
"A large family." He nods, watching you break beans and follows suit, doing what you do. The snap of his beans is louder than yours as it is apparent that he puts much more force behind the action. You sigh as you feel the juice and seeds from the beans glance at your skin. A stiff breeze comes in through the window and the curtain sweeps in to graze your back. You can hear your father's deep voice and the echo of your brothers' answers to his statement as they walk up the path. The crunch of the sticks and broken shells that line and create the path to your home lets you know that they approach. The hearth and home will be complete once more.  
  
**  
  
The roar of the fire is loud. It has always drawn you close, this marvel of nature...fire. Why it crackles when small...just allowing ash to rise and dance above it... and roars when large when the smoke is billowed, rolled and thrown aloft...has always been a mystery to you. But it is the power to reduce living tissue to ash, to reduce a tree that has taken nature centuries to grow to a pile of soot in such a short time, which draws you.  
  
Before your older brothers have cleared the dune, you can see the cast of red and orange as it rises above the sand like a sunrise. You slide, trying in vain to keep up with their larger and more agile feet and legs. The granules of sand push through your toes, moving like liquid instead of solid, until you stand at the pinnacle of the sea lining mountain. Below you, around the fire, dance people, just mere shadows... ephemeral beings that have no substance. The shrill of the flute, like the call of a bird, and the pounding beat of a drum, like the pounding of the surf, is barely heard over the roar of that living, breathing, mountain of flame.  
  
"Don't just stand there, Tira!" Lindal yells, as he slides down the other side of the dune. "The last one to the fire is always the one left out of the dances and the one that does not get any starfruit!"  
  
You shake your head at the insistence of your oldest brother. At twenty, he uses the harvest festival as a time to dally with women, looking for a wife. He does not understand that this...this watching of the fire, the smell of the sea and the fruit...watching the swirling, dancing people makes you ache with happiness. You need no more to make this night perfect. This is what you have wanted to experience for years.  
  
Qui-Gon flies past you, his boots slipping and sliding on the sand like a pebble tossed on a stream. He stops half way down and turns to glance up at you. His tunic, its ecru and tan now hues of red and orange, make him seem like an ember himself. He moves his shoulder as Hagdar, the closest brother to you in age, crests the dune and rockets by him.  
  
"She is like that, Padawan Jinn," Hag addresses Qui-Gon properly, using his full title. "She will try and absorb everything into her being, sights, sounds, smells, until there is nothing left. I wouldn't be surprised if she is still there when the bonfire is nothing but ash. She has her head in another place too often..."  
  
Qui-Gon nods to let Hag know he has heard him. You let your eyes run over the two of them and let them return to the glorious inferno in front of you. Let them both say what they will...they don't understand what it is you see, you FEEL when you look around you...  
  
Your thoughts, vicious as they are, are cut off as Qui-Gon suddenly grabs your arm. His feet barely hold him up as he fights to keep them from sliding down the granule covered hill. "It's life, Tira. It is always here, but stand and watch it and you will miss it. I know what you see. What you feel...."  
  
"Get out of my head, Qui-Gon," you turn your head to pin him with your gaze. You know that there are sparks flying out of your eyes, that they are akin to the fire below you. "I don't see the Force..."  
  
"You see life." He answers, his hand tightening on your elbow. "And I know that you think that others don't see it, but they do, they just choose to let it pass without acknowledging it. And I will not read your mind again, my apologies." You can feel the power in his hand, so different now then earlier that day.  
  
You don't know whether to yell at him or not. You don't know him. You don't have any knowledge of him, but suddenly he seems to be closer to you than others, than your own family. He knows what you think. He knows you...and for some reason, he seems to be the only rope that is tethering you to the shore in storm. Intelligence would dictate that you walk away from him, but you find that you are unable. There is something kindred in him that draws you in and anchors you. Whether you like it or not, this Jedi Apprentice is your friend and has been since he knocked you down on that path earlier that day.  
  
And you know that this sudden friendship is a surprise to him. You know it as surely as the sun will rise in the morning. He is as unaccustomed to finding someone to talk to as you are. It is not that you are friendless, but here in the town, you are. It is only in the ivy covered sanctum of your school that you find others like you. And it is only in that elusive Temple of Jedi somewhere on Coruscant that he has friends as well. This place, this situation is neither for either of you. And as such, it serves as a place that is strange and new to both of you.  
  
"We will miss the fruit," he states, holding your elbow in a vice of a grip.  
  
"After all you just ate, Padawan Jinn?" You answer, squinting at him. In the fire, his hair and eyes seem to be alive, as though they are only attached to him, but have a life of their own.  
  
"My Master will tell you that I am a growing Jedi," he retorts, tugging on your arm. "Just remember what you see, enjoy what you see...and it will all be there for you in your memories."  
  
You shake your head. He is right about the fruit. Your brothers will eat all they can just to spite you. "True...you have a habit of that, Qui-Gon...always being right..."  
  
"Please...tell that to my Master. He would just love to know that." His smile and the toss of his head and roll of his eyes make you smile.  
  
"Speaking of your Master..." you turn to look at the groups of people removed from the fire. The lack of proximity to the flames casts them in hues of black instead of making them seem...formless.  
  
"He is off to the side, about forty or so paces from the fire with the elder of your town. Your father is there as well. I should hurry and make myself presented to him." Qui-Gon's eyes are closed and he squints. "My Master wants to meet you as well."  
  
"Well..." you sigh, allowing Qui-Gon's tugs to move you down the dune. You slide along side of him and the both of you stumble out of the tendrils of sand that surround the mountain of pulverized quartz. As you reach the bottom, you are assaulted with a mixture of aromas that you are sure you will never forget: ash and flames, fruit and sea...and just that hint of summer breeze that lends freshness to everything it touches.  
  
"Let's not keep him waiting."  
  
**  
  
Waiting is something that Master Yoda could do forever, you decide as you stand in front of him. Qui-Gon is standing in front of you, half shadowing you with his lanky form. His feet are still encased in the black form of his boots and their dark hue is so far removed from the white of your bare feet that you are almost startled from it. But you are not as startled by that as you are the small Jedi Master, Yoda. He barely reaches Qui-Gon's hip in height, is green and wrinkled with a shock of snow white hair. He is, as Qui-Gon said, definitely a Dagobanian.  
  
"Lost you were."  
  
"Yes, Master. I helped Tira; I had knocked her down, Master...it was the least that I could do. And I did use the time to learn something of the culture here." From behind him, you can only hear the dusting of Qui-Gon's voice, the low tones are clear, but the high tones are lost on the breeze.  
  
"Lost you were, and found you did a path. Not the right path, padawan, but a path you found."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"Welcome at their house you are, Padawan, during our stay here."  
  
"Thank you, Master."  
  
"And visit you may, a friend it seems that you have made. Complete your katas and meditations you must before join them you can." The small Jedi Master thumped his stick on the ground impatiently, leaning on it unnecessarily. You glance around Qui-Gon to look at the small Jedi Master. His ears, like giant funnels are pointed at right angles from his head as you study him. "Consider this a time of lessons in life, Padawan, you should."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
Yoda's mouth folds in on itself as he stares at his padawan. "Then go, Qui-Gon. Learn this harvest celebration, you should. See you at our quarters in three hours, I will."  
  
Qui-Gon bends at his waist, tucking his hands together against his chest. It is a low bow designed to show respect. He rights himself quickly and turns to face you. You are startled by his quick turn and you blink.  
  
"I have three hours," he states unnecessarily.  
  
"So I heard," you answer, nodding slowly. You can see your father shaking his head at your impertinence. But it seems natural to react to this Jedi in this manner, and he would want you to react in nothing less then completely natural ways to him. This you know.  
  
"Then show me what there is here..." he answers back, lowering his hand to catch at your elbow. Your raised eyebrow makes him stop and he sighs. "Please?"  
  
You nod again, letting his hand curl into your elbow. "Let's find my brothers...." 


	3. Chapter 3

The tree scrapes at your hand as you grab at one of the lower lying branches. You were never one to be athletic, and your limbs are telling you as much, but you still want to strive to win this competition.  
  
"Come on, Tira!"  
  
You roll your eyes and levy yourself up on the limb. The rough bark digs into the skin at the bend of your knee. All the ridges of nature's armor press hard into your bones, but you actually like the feeling. The smell of sap and citrus is so strong around you that you are lightheaded and giddy with it. You giggle as the branch that you are holding bends and you have to release it or fall.  
  
"We only have an hour."  
  
You glance down at Hag and point upwards. "Which tree nymph ordered the fruit hung so high in the tree?"  
  
"Does it matter?" Hag stands at the foot of the tree, his head bent back to stare upwards into the branches. "You have to pick at least a bushel to beat Tyn and Geon."  
  
You shimmy out on the branch and reach out to capture the purple starfruit. They are smooth pods with small pimpled areas of skin. Too soft to be held long, you wrap them in the cloth that you bought and lower the contraption on the rope to Hag. "Why did you pick me to climb up here, anyway, Hag? If you were only going to complain about it?"  
  
"Because you can bend around those branches up there. Besides, most of the other boys are the ones catching the fruit as the girls lower them." He answers, capturing the package at it lowers into his arms. He is a little too rough and you see the dawn-tinted juice splatter and spread on the light woven fabric. As he empties the satchel into the bushel and releases it, you see that most of the fruits are smashed. You viciously pull the rope and the satchel flies back up to you.  
  
At least, you think as you sniff at the fabric, your jacket will always smell of the fruit. You stand, using the branches above your head to steady as you shimmy to the trunk. With a heave, you lever yourself up to the next branch. This is very different from your books and studies, but captured as you are in the curtain of green, surrounded by the smells of growing nature, you feel welcome. Around you, you can hear the shouts and laughter of other pairs as they fight to pick the most fruit. The laughter reminds you of the stream by your house...constant and bubbly.  
  
There are several fruit in a cluster out on the end of the branch and you inch out to them. The branch bends under your weight, but holds. You snatch up the fruit and literally throw the satchel back down to your impatient brother.  
  
"Your friend...that Jedi apprentice could certainly help matters here." Hag comments as he dumps the container and lets go of it.  
  
"I don't think we will see him again." You answer back, resting your back against the rough branch. The bonfire had been three nights ago and since then you have not seen Qui-Gon. His Master had said that they might be needed at the Grand House for negotiations. Your new friend had nodded, and straightened his back. When he had walked you back to your home, he had mentioned that the day he had spent with you was one of the few he had ever had with no responsibilities. Qui-Gon had seemed very serious when he had said goodbye, thanking you for a wonderful evening and telling you that he was glad to have met you. But his tone, the gentle deep boy-growing-into-a-man tone was over shadowed by a gruff no-nonsense aura. You had known as he had walked down the path and into the forest surrounding your home, that you would probably not see him again. But you were glad to have met him.  
  
"Did you scare him away, Tira?" Hag teases, sitting down on the grass next to the bushel.  
  
You sigh and ease around a V in the branches. Before you can answer him, you hear a gruff, "No."  
  
You start and glance down at the ground. From the height at which you are all you can see is the somewhat familiar glow of tawny brown hair and ecru tunic. You had not heard Qui-Gon approach. As you balance precariously on the branch and try and hold your position, his head tilts back. You can see his clear face and his eyes although not their profound blue at this distance. There is a difference to his stance this afternoon. He is stiffer, more...proper than he had been the other evening. "Sending Tira on missions of impossibility again, Hag?"  
  
Your brother launches himself off the ground and swipes at the seat of his pants quickly. "Padawan Jinn..."  
  
"I am guessing that this is the starfruit gathering competition I heard about..." Qui-Gon lowers his head to glance at Hag. "You might fare better..."  
  
You grab the branch next to swing yourself down to the next tier of limbs. Your brother had chosen the perfect tree, the limbs seeming like a collection of natural steps to the green canopy rather than just simple branches. Within moments, you alight to the ground near the two boys. The grass seems to give like a bog and you bounce. "Qui-Gon..."  
  
"You thought I was gone." He states with a smile. After a second, he lifts his head to look at the tree. You see that impossibly long ponytail sweep at the space between his shoulder blades. In the harsh sunlight, his hair seems like cinnamon instead of dull brown. "Are the participants allowed a ladder?"  
  
Hag startles to action, nodding quickly. For some reason, your brothers are in awe of this boy. He seems no different than others to you, however. "We are..."  
  
"May I?" Qui-Gon points to the ladder and motions to the trunk of the tree. "You might fare better with me in the tree than Tira....no offense." He states, looking at you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest.  
  
"You cannot use the Force, Padawan Jinn." You answer him, putting emphasis on his title. "That would be cheating..."  
  
"I will not use the Force," his eyes appear surprised. "But I have undergone intense physical training...that might give me a slightly improved chance at reaching the fruit at the top of the tree." He reaches down to loosen his outer tunic and lays his belt aside: complete with lightsabre and tools. Within seconds, his form is just covered in his inner tunic, the one more white than tan. He stops as his tunic falls to the ground, glancing at you again. With pursed lips, you shrug and extend your hand to welcome him to try the tree. His height, though, you think, will be a hindrance rather than a help in the branches.  
  
He nods, smiling widely and lifts the ladder to place it against the trunk. He shimmies up the outside of the wood and you listen to the creak of the rungs as they strain under his weight. The ladder is not a great one; having laid in your father's shed for years, rotting more than existing. The smell of moss is stronger around it than wood. You reach forward to brace it as he reaches the solid upper branches. His feet remain on the rung as he reaches in at an impossible angle to grasp at the fruit.  
  
You can see his hand hesitate as it touches the skin of the seed pod. It is almost as if he can sense the softness inherent in it. His eyes squint as if hearing a voice that only he can hear. You feel as though he is listening to the fruit and the tree that bears it. With a gentleness you had not told him to use, he plucks the fruit and places it in the parcel that he scooped up before climbing. After several seconds, he turns and whistles to you. You reach up to receive the cloth as he lowers it to you.  
  
Hag shakes his head as you capture the parcel like a tiny babe and empty the fruit into the bushel. Not one is squashed and the pristine white of the parcel is left unmarred. Standing as you do over the bushel, you can see the purple and crimson juice of ruined fruits on the sides of the bushel. Your mother will be able to make jam easily with the contents.  
  
"Tira!"  
  
You turn and let the parcel go and it flies up to Qui-Gon's hand. Although he holds the rope that is attached to it, you know that he accomplished the act using the Force. He leans around the other side of the tree, looping his arm around a wide branch. And it is a good thing too.  
  
The ladder, put out from the abuse that it felt it was receiving, groans and twists and suddenly...Qui-Gon is standing in the air without support as the wood collapses to the ground. The supporting limbs that your father had cut to make the ladder crumble, letting the rungs fall like forgotten leaves to the ground. You gasp, your hands flying to your mouth. Jinn had been at the upper most reaches of the tree, his head even with the canopy that only the birds use with regularity. It has to be more than thirty feet off the ground.  
  
But he does not fall.  
  
You squint, seeing his right arm curl. It holds most of his weight. The ends of the branch that he holds sway and the leaves rustle. A lone bird launches from its nest and circles the limb like a hawk on a hunt. You hear only a minute grunt as Qui-Gon swings his legs around in an arc. They curl over the limb he holds and he pulls his weight up and crouches on the limb.  
  
Sound has disappeared. Laughter has disappeared, although you can hear it happening around you. All you can feel is a sense of time sliding to a stop, your breath holding, wavering and your heart slowing. Your eyes remain centered on Qui-Gon, although you only wish to close them on the crisis that you see occurring. Even the warmth of the sun turns cold.  
  
"I'm fine." He calls down, as he leans forward in a seated position to look down at you and your brother.  
  
"I'm not," you grunt lowly. You can slowly feel the blood beginning to flow again, the warmth of the sun again kissing the tips of your ears. You flop to the ground, letting your legs stretch out in front of you as it seems that they cannot hold your weight any longer. The grass is fragrant and cushy and alive...you curl your fingers into its coolness to ground yourself. You had thought, for sure, that you would be explaining the broken body of the Jedi to his Master.  
  
Qui-Gon smiles, at least it looks like a smile from that distance, and turns, rising, standing on the limb. He grabs at several fruits in a bough above his head. The branch that he holds is not steady, however, and the fruit swings inward to hit him in the face. You can hear the muttered curse as the soft fruit collides with his chin and cheek. And you know, without looking at him, that the juice from the fruit has covered his face. He ducks to avoid the actual branch and his hair catches in the small limbs and twigs as the arm of the tree bends over him.  
  
"Are you all right now?" you call.  
  
"Impertinent." You hear muttered back down. He settles himself back down on the branch and looks at the various squashed fruits around his legs. You can see the stain on his face, the upper part of his tunic and his chest from here. It is deep crimson almost like the first kiss of sunrise and you know that he will smell like starfruit for the remainder of the day. Whereas he had seemed very proper when he arrived, it is almost impossible for him to remain that way covered in fruit juice as he is. He certainly tries, though.  
  
You watch as his gaze sweeps down to you and then up again, to look over the hills of grass and the sand dunes to the sea beyond. A change comes over his face, a softening, and you can almost sense the lines of seriousness that seem so out of place on one so young easing. After a moment, you see him squirm on the branch and the sigh that emanates from his lips is audible even over the breeze and over that distance. It is then that you know you are not alone.  
  
Turning quickly, you see your brother start. Behind him, at a space of about twenty paces is the short Dagobanian Jedi Master. His tunic and robe are brown and reach to the ground. He seems out of place in the middle of the orchard, around trees so tall that he seems to be minuscule. He frowns at you and then tilts his head back. "Unexpected was it, Padawan?"  
  
"Very, Master." Qui-Gon calls down. "But..." he picks up a fruit and raises it to his mouth. He bites into the fruit and you can see the juices running around his fingers and down his chin. "At least this way, Master, I can commune with the Living Force."  
  
Yoda shakes his head, leaning forward on his walking stick. He extends a hand and Qui-Gon is suddenly removed from the branch and lowered to one two below him. You squint as you watch the young Jedi take his change in position as easily as a change in wind direction. Once he is placed there, Yoda nods to his apprentice. "Lower yourself, the rest of the way, you should, Padawan."  
  
Qui-Gon sighs and nods slowly. He closes his eyes and you see him gently levitate off of the branch. He slowly descends to the grass on the hill, his legs folded as if meditating. As he settles, you hear silence. Others are watching him as you do; they stand around the trees like statues. The only movement you see is fluttering hair and skirts, loose shirts in the breeze. Laughter has stopped, and now there only exists stunned silence like a living, breathing entity.  
  
He opens his eyes and glances at his Master with a nod. The breeze ruffles his hair as it does yours, allowing the gentle bangs to caress his brow. Indeed, the fruit has stained his face and chin, coating his tunic and the tips of his hair like dye. Around him, you can smell the aroma of nature. Leaves stick out of the short hair on top of his head and a lone branch appears balanced on the upper crest of his right ear. He does look as though he...communes...with the Living Force.  
  
Qui-Gon pushes to stand and faces you. There are tears on the top hem of his tunic. Although he is proper now as he stands, his hands falling into the practiced position of mediation in front of him, your mind replays the sound of a few...curses...that had escaped his lips when the ladder fell. The thought brings a smile to your face with ease.  
  
"Incredible."  
  
You hear your brother breathe the word as if he stands in a church or temple. Qui-Gon, it appears, almost flinches with the sound of the awe-inspired word from Hag's lips. He lowers his head from your gaze and glances backward out of the corner of his eyes. "It was necessary. There was no other way to disentangle myself from the situation," he comments.  
  
Hag nods, but you can see that his jaw gapes still. Yoda hums as if in deep thought and turns. "Return to the cottage by nightfall, Padawan, you shall. Your own, is the day." The words are rasped, quiet, as if forced from a rusty old billow. He lumbers away, his steps heavy with a limp. Qui-Gon watches his master as he walks away, and remains almost deathly still, quiet. Finally, as the small Master climbs the hill and disappears into the yew cluster, he lifts his head to glance at you.  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
Tilting your head, you squint your eyes and ask: "For what?"  
  
"Using the Force...I had told you..."  
  
"I'm glad that you did," you state, righting your head. Pointing to the tattered remains of the ladder you sigh. "If you hadn't, you would still be up the tree and I would still be wondering how to get you down. If you have the talent..."  
  
Hag shuffles next to you and moves to the bushel. After a second of making sure that all of the fruit, squashed or not, is in the basket, he heaves the bushel to his shoulder. With nary a glance at you or Qui-Gon, he turns and moves off to the rest of the orchard and to the rest of the people who are slowly returning to work. "I will see you later, Tira. And you, Padawan Jinn."  
  
Qui-Gon watches your brother go with tired eyes. Suddenly, he appears an old man in a teenagers body. Weight of years shows on his face. His sigh is so loud that you fear that the rest of the fruit will tumble from the tree to land about your feet. "As I said, Tira..."  
  
"And as I said, if you have the talent, use it." You return, bending to gather the remaining fruit in the hem of your apron.  
  
"They..." Qui-Gon shakes his head, bending to pick up a couple of the pods that rolled far from the tree. "Have no knowledge of the Force...it is hard to have them understand....it is not magic...I'm not..."  
  
"A sorcerer... a wizard..." you nod. "You are a Jedi. You are blessed and you are one of an elite that are the peacekeepers of the galaxy."  
  
"And in many a person's eye, a freak." He adds, ending the sentence on a chuckle. With your back turned to him, and if you did not know what he looked like, you might be able to imagine the man he might become. The weight of his words and the feeling behind the meaning is too intense for him as he is. "You know these things because of the education that you are getting....but if you were not at that school...you would believe as they do."  
  
"Maybe..." you sigh, glancing down at the fruit. You hold out your apron to take his offerings as well. "I would not know any better to feel any different."  
  
He drops the fruit in your apron and you both smile at the disgusting, squished sound that it makes when it hits the others. You feel the cool juice as it splashes against your stomach through your shirt. He sighs as he realizes that his face is the same shade purple as your shirt at that moment. "I cannot let it bother me...but it is hard..."  
  
"It is hard for all of us to fit in, Qui-Gon."  
  
"True. Very, very true, but..."he smiles and turns to face the other trees now alive once again with laughter. He shakes his head. "Let's find another tree and see if we can still pick enough fruit to qualify."  
  
"We can find Hag...I know where he went." You begin to walk, and hear him step to join you. "I should apologize to you for his reaction..."  
  
"There is no reason." Qui-Gon lowers his head. He finally spies the rip in his tunic.  
  
You laugh at the twist of his mouth. "My mother can fix that, Qui-Gon, if you don't want to...she will probably love the opportunity."  
  
"I know how to sew my own clothes, thank you." He grumbles. "And..." he stops, reaching out to stop you as well. "I do have to apologize to you. I wanted to not be...a Jedi apprentice...here. But it is who I am."  
  
You nod and begin to walk again. "And I don't wish to be a philosopher and a teacher, but it is who I am and who I have been since I was ten. The intense education I get would create nothing different." You glance sideways at him and grin widely. "Two freaks in a pod."  
  
The sudden flare of your humor makes him choke a laugh and he nods. "But you are...normal...to a certain extent...if I could ever define normal."  
  
"No," you laugh as the two of you break the orchard boundary and you spy Hag leaning against a tree. The ruffling leaves above his head and the tumbling curses lets you know that one of your other brothers is up the tree. "No logical arguments...I have a week until classes...I want to be mindless."  
  
"Then..." he grins as he grabs your hand to drag you running the last few feet. "Let's be mindless." 


	4. Chapter 4

The step creaks as you sit on it. Your friend from school, Kyn, has arrived and she sits next to you. Around the edge of the house porch, rain falls...dripping, spreading cool wisps of spray across your bare legs and feet. You hold your feet out in front of you, allowing the water to steadily forge its way through your toes, painting trails as it goes. Kyn has rolled up her pants as well, and sits much as you do, with her back to the hard, paint-flecking wall and has her legs curled over the edge of the step. A small bowl sits between you and it holds the pits from several starfruits. Your fingers feel coated with juice...sticky...but your stomach feels full.  
  
She sighs loudly, rocking her backside into the grained surface. You glance sideways and shake your head to answer her question before she asks it. "No, Kyn, I am not ready for classes to begin."  
  
"Neither am I, Tira...neither am I. This week has certainly been...eventful." Your friend glances down at the fruit that she holds and lifts her wrist to her mouth to lick at the juice as it rolls down the skin there. She is a year older than you and seems worlds apart at times, but she is the closest friend that you have.  
  
"I wish times like this could go on forever...I wish..." You sigh, and shift, listening to the steady fall of rain on the wood slats overhead for a moment before continuing. "Sometimes I wish time would stand still."  
  
"It never will."  
  
"I know."  
  
The two of you lapse into silence, letting nature sing and sigh with the gentle falling rain. After a few minutes, there is a clattering as Kyn throws another pit into the metal embrace of the bowl. She glances at you and you know that she is thinking of other things. "And this Qui-Gon Jinn...?"  
  
"Is a Jedi Apprentice...and will be leaving soon."  
  
"But you have become friends with him?" She asks. For a moment, you wish your mother would remain quiet about things, but then you realize that you would have told Kyn yourself about your new friend if your mother had not. You nod, leaning back on your hands.  
  
"Yes...he is someone that I call friend. He is more like you and I than anyone else I know. He would be at the school with us if he were not Force sensitive." You comment. Although you do not like to say that you are different, others will not let you forget it. A gust of wind flushes through the porch and sends a crested air wave with spray against your legs. You shiver and draw the wet, cool legs up against your chest. "I could quote Hirdonian..."  
  
Kyn closes her eyes and throws back her head theatrically. "Those cut of the cloth of kindred spirits will become like pants and vests. Ensembles of heavenly bliss."  
  
You sigh and shake your head at your friend's actions. "It is not completely like that...and I won't say that I know I will see him again. I just know..." you bite your lip and smile. "I will not regret getting knocked down by him, nor will I regret the week of knowing him. And regardless if I see him again, I am content with what occurred."  
  
"The hell you are."  
  
You gasp at the vulgarity out of Kyn's mouth and then collapse in laughter. Your friend knows you well. "There is nothing I can do about it, Kyn. Life has already plotted the course, I merely sail."  
  
"Now you sound like Teacher Johnson." Kyn mumbles.  
  
You open your mouth to answer her when there is the sound of leaves and branches colliding and twigs breaking under the weight of a great many feet off to the side of the house. Suddenly, Hag and Geon rocket out of the forest and sprint toward the steps. Kyn and you pull up your legs and huddle, knowing that they will run you over before they will even think to stop. Although Kyn is a pretty girl with long midnight hued locks and haunting green eyes, your brothers have classified her like they have classified you: different, removed and lacking reality base. Although you know that your family loves you very much, and that they would fight, attack anyone that harmed you, you also know that they do not completely understand you. And although they would flirt with Kyn, they don't because she is a student like you. Running her down is not an issue that they would address.  
  
Another body flies out of the forest at an incredible pace, an impossible speed. It slows as it passes your brothers and stops at the bottom of the worn steps. You see that it is Qui-Gon, rain splattered and looking like a lost, wet animal. His white tunic is plastered to his skin, now almost see through and the moisture tightens his brown pants. He does not look as he has this last week, as his boots are...finally...clean. Rivets of water run out of his short, almost spiky hair, down over his asymmetrical nose to glance at the corner of his mouth. The long hairs that make up his ponytail are wet and act like a whip against his skin as he skids to a stop. "Hello."  
  
Kyn sighs lowly and nods to Qui-Gon. You look at her and then address Jinn. "This is my friend and classmate, Kyn....Kyn, this is Qui-Gon Jinn."  
  
Qui-Gon looks her over, taking in her dark straight hair and elfin like face and nods. "My pleasure."  
  
Looking behind Qui-Gon to the forest, you see the rest of your brothers and some of their friends break from the tree line and sprint for the house. "Have you incited the natives?"  
  
Qui-Gon barks a laugh and shakes his head. "No...we have been...boar hunting."  
  
"Oh Gods..." Kyn groans, knowing instinctively why the boys are running at the speed they are. "You didn't catch it, did you?"  
  
His boots clatter as he climbs the steps to the porch. "No."  
  
You push to your feet. "Not using the Force again..." you comment.  
  
"I felt in the Force that it did not WANT to be caught, and as it is only for sport..." the Jedi shrugs, with a half-smile on his face. "And apparently, part of the fun is to not catch it and to try and out run it."  
  
Turning, you nod and let Kyn run ahead of you to the house. Your brothers and friends launch themselves up the steps and toward the door. You stand back, allowing them to pile, on atop of another, in the door. From the edge of the forest, you hear the snorts and heavy breaths of a boar that has been disturbed and enraged. Small plants begin to shake and you know that the animal will be pushing out of the undergrowth any minute. The boys still block the doorway, stumbling and laughing as they climb over each other to get in the door.  
  
Qui-Gon trains his eyes on the edge of the trees and lets go a low whistle as the animal emerges from the forest and re-establishes its sense of direction in the clearing. "Everybody in."  
  
You find that you are entranced with the sight of the boar. Water does not wet its coarse fur; it beads and falls. Its fangs curl upwards, reaching even with its snout. Suddenly a weight descends on your arm and you feel Qui-Gon's hand curl into your elbow. "Come on, Tira...in the house..."  
  
You turn to glance at Jinn, watching as the last of the water courses out of his hair and down his cheek. He smiles and twirls you around and pushes you toward the door. His arm extends over your head as he holds the door open for you. With a sigh, you ask: "Did you make it mad on purpose?"  
  
He grins down at you.  
  
With a grunt, you press ahead and feel his body as he pushes in behind you. The door slams shut behind you, the screen clattering in its frame.  
  
**  
  
The rain stops that evening and you venture out onto the porch, shuffling your feet in the accumulated puddles. The coolness is like a blanket...falling to cover you, but you don't really acknowledge its existence. Warmth from the end of the day extends to you like a lover's embrace and you see small wisps of steam rising from various puddles. It is truly the end of the summer. Even the deep orange in the sunset, the call of birds as they alight to migrate, the smell of fallen wet leaves lets you know that it is indeed the end of another harvest time.  
  
Warmth embraces you from behind, floating out of the house to wrap its great arms around you. Laughter joins the heat of the hearth to warm you; only its heat comes from the inside, like an inferno rising from a fire in your soul. You will miss home when you travel to school. And you will miss those that make the house a home. Miss your mother's cooking, her continuous tongue clucking, her smiles and the heavenly bread that she makes. You will miss your father, his knowing nods and deep voice. And you will miss your brothers...and their incessant teases.  
  
But they will be here when you return. And so will the house, the stream, and the trees...everything...just as you see it now. It will not change.  
  
A deep voice answers the rest and it seems nearer than the others. You realize that it is Qui-Gon's...that he is saying his final goodbye to your family and extending his thanks. He leaves the next day, at the first light...on a negotiation mission with his Master, Yoda. They will travel to the far side of the galaxy on an errand for the Galactic Senate. It seems to be such an important job for one such as Qui-Gon. He walks out on the porch, his booted feet sounding like a clock marking off the passage of time.  
  
"Tira..." he says, his voice low in the evening. You can tell that he smiles before you turn. "You are trying to absorb too much...any more absorbent and you will turn into a sponge."  
  
"Mindless..." you smile in return. "Sounds perfect."  
  
His laugh is strong. "I agree."  
  
You tilt your head. "So you are off to knock down another person on another planet?"  
  
Qui-Gon shakes his head, still laughing. "You were the first to have that happen, Tira...I don't think it will happen again."  
  
With a nod, you walk forward, your bare feet splashing back through the puddles. Your skirt is tied up on the side to keep it out of the water, but you can feel that the ends of it are still very wet. As you approach him, you hold out your hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Qui-Gon Jinn."  
  
"And it was a pleasure to meet you, Tira." He answers, his large hand encompassing yours and shaking it firmly. "And I thank you for your friendship...it was offered...freely."  
  
You nod. It had been. "And thank you for yours. I learned...things I don't normally learn..."  
  
"How to avoid a wild boar when it lays siege to your house? Or how to get twigs out of your hair?"  
  
"That, among other things, Qui-Gon."  
  
"That there are others like you, everywhere." He returns, smiling down at you.  
  
You laugh and nod. It is true...meeting Qui-Gon showed you that there are others like you...everywhere...even on Coruscant. You tilt you head and watch as he holds out his hand to the side, as if escorting you to the edge of the porch. Joining him in stride, you walk with your hands held behind your back to the top step leading off the platform. The smell of wet earth is strong here and you inhale deeply.  
  
He does the same. "If evening actually had an aroma," he states, "it would smell like this."  
  
Startled, you turn and nod. After a minute, you say: "Will you come back this way again, Jedi?"  
  
His eyes grow a little dark, like dusk encroaching on the day. "It is possible, Tira...but I can't say for sure."  
  
Your eyes drift past his shoulder to look out at the trees. Their dark spires climb into the sky, itself now a dark dusk purple. "If you do come back to Alderaan, Qui-Gon, you are welcome here...I'm sure my mother and father told you such."  
  
"Yes, they did, but it is good to hear it from you again. Friends are hard to get and even harder to hold with a life as a Jedi." He comments, as he steps down to the next step. His shoulders are straight and his back is like a bow, flexed and ready. "And if I am on Alderaan again, I will look for you."  
  
"Either here or at school, Jinn...you are welcome at both places." You sigh and move to the edge of the step, curling your toes over the edge. After a moment, you shake your head forcefully. "I wish that there was no purpose to drive me...and could just let me be..."  
  
"And you would have a boring life...purpose drives us all and defines who we are...or at least it defines me."  
  
You agree with a shake of your head. "Good luck, Padawan."  
  
"And to you..." he answers, stepping down another step. Turning, he looks up at you. " Do you write?"  
  
"If you mean letters, then yes..." you states, sinking into a crouch on the top step, holding your knees.  
  
"Good." He smiles, but offers nothing else by way of comment. "Good night, Tira."  
  
"Good night, Qui-Gon. And safe travels."  
  
He nods and finally steps down onto the crushed shells that compose the front walk of your home. Within seconds, he begins to stride away from you, his form outlined by the deep hues of the dusk. His tunic seems surreal, ghostly in the night. He calls over his shoulder, turning in his stride before he reaches the edge of the trees where the stream winds gently in a wide bend. "Goodbye!" His hand waves above his head and suddenly you hear a laugh in your head.  
  
With a grimace, you know that he is talking in your mind. "Goodbye," you think, rocking back on your backside to look at the skyline. He stands for a moment and then turns, disappearing into the thick growth that surrounds your home. You see the white of his tunic for another moment and then it disappears completely, swallowed like a shadow in the night.  
  
You sit there for a long time, enjoying the play of breeze across your brow and skin. It is almost as if the evening is kissing you goodnight and tucking you into its warm bed. There is a creak at the door behind you and you sense a person standing on the porch with you. After the space of several breaths, your father sinks into a seated position on the step next to you.  
  
"You make friends too easily sometimes, Tira."  
  
With a nod, you agree.  
  
"It will hurt you someday."  
  
After another breath, you agree again.  
  
Your father's hand falls to the porch behind you, making the board on which you sit, bend. "And a friendship with a Jedi..."  
  
"He is a person as well, Father."  
  
"Yes, he is..." your father agrees, his bright auburn hair sweeping across his brow to obscure his eyesight. "And a good one...but...I would not expect to see him again, dear."  
  
"If I see him, I see him, Papa." You answer, knowing that your father will understand. He is one of the few of your family that thinks as you do. "It was a good week."  
  
"Yes, it was." Papa sighs and shifts his weight. "And that is what is important. Regardless of what the future brings, you always have your memories."  
  
You turn to glance at your father. His smile is wide and it gleams in the late summer moonlight. He puts his hand on your shoulder and tilts his head down as though to scold, but he continues to smile. "Come inside...your mother has made moonberry pie."  
  
With a smile that you know looks much like his, you answer. "In a minute, Papa."  
  
He nods and rises, turning to glance at the path for a moment before he walks toward the house. The boards creak again, following his progress until the door open, rattling screen and all. You are left alone on the porch, watching the very last of the sun's rays as they fight to be seen in the sky. The purple fades to charcoal gray and then finally to that night black that is never quite completely black. Stars peak out and you watch as clouds drift by, obliterating their light for a short period.  
  
With a sigh, you lower your head to your knees and rock for a moment. Then you stand and walk back to the house. There is little pain in parting, you think. You did not know him long...it is only the pain of thinking of what the friendship might have become that affects you. No regrets. You pull on the door and walk into the warmth of the kitchen. 


End file.
